


creatures of the night, monsters in the dark

by ghostofgatsby



Series: I'd kill for you. I'd die for you. I'd live for you. [6]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Blood, Fae manipulation, Halloween costume parties, Knives, M/M, Multi, Murder, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween. Samhain. The night the fae and mortals share the streets. Of rituals and summonings, of heightened senses and weakened thresholds.<br/>In the darkness, the monsters creep with those who play pretend. Those who find themselves unlucky enough to be alone, as the hour strikes twelve, will wish trouble hadn’t followed their every move.<br/>You only make so many mistakes when the predators outnumber the prey they choose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	creatures of the night, monsters in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> actual pretty chill for a GC Halloween  
> pre Sips fic
> 
> cws: fae manipulation, blood, knives, alluding to death but no actual description of the act of murder/sacrifice, dead body. also basically a mention of blood drinking but it's...brief?  
> If I need to tag anything else, let me know.
> 
> Samhain and Halloween aren't exactly synonyms but oh well.  
> Happy Halloween, if you celebrate it. Have a great weekend, anyway, if you do or don't. If you're just going to browse the internet alone in your room, hey, that's alright. That's what I'll be doing lol.
> 
> Feel free to check out the blog, ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com  
> for rebloggable fic posts, playlist tracklists, and more! (recently changed the settings so you can comment completely anonymously if you want, no email or username required. thought I had that already but ah well, it's updated now.)
> 
> Not much extra content, but you can always throw some questions my way, either on ao3 or there. If you'd like me to put together the aesthetic links below into a post, just let me know!
> 
> reblog?: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2015/10/31/creatures-of-the-night-monsters-in-the-dark-ghostofgatsby/

Halloween. Samhain. The night the fae and mortals share the streets. Where parents check the candy more than twice, remind their children to stay away from certain houses. Some places can quite literally swallow you up.

The magic of the city changes on Halloween. Thresholds, both fae and human alike, are weakened imperceptibly.

Tonight was the night for rituals and summonings. Witchcraft, sorcery, astrology...all the magic was churning in the heart of the city. Senses are heightened.

In the darkness of the streets, the monsters creep with those who play pretend. And those who find themselves unlucky enough to be alone, as the hour strikes twelve, will wish trouble hadn’t followed their every move.

You only make so many mistakes when the predators outnumber the prey they choose.

“Fuck, I haven’t done this to my hair in _ages_.” Smith beams, preening in the mirror.

“How come?” Ross asks. He’s sitting on the edge of the tub, watching Smith get ready for the Garbage Court party tonight.

The kelpie sighs. “Trott wouldn’t let me waste money on fucking hair grease.”

“It looks better naturally, Smith, without all that product in your hair.” Trott calls from the bedroom. Seconds later he appears, leaning a hand on the molding around the doorway.

Smith smiles shyly as he sets down the comb. He meets Trott’s eyes in the mirror and his eyebrows shoot up. He turns around.

Smith and Ross look Trott up and down. The selkie is dressed in all black- pants, dress shirt, suit and tie. His shoes are shined and he’s wearing silver claw-like rings on his left hand. Other than that, there’s no sparkle in his appearance- all darkness and danger. If someone crosses him tonight, and their eye is caught by the glimmer, they’ll be damned. Before they can react there’ll be a knife between their ribs and it will already be too late.

Smith leans back against the sink. He smiles slowly and rakes his eyes up Trott’s form. “You look good.” He says, voice low and seductive.

Trott smiles back and smooths his hand down the front of his blazer. “Do I, now?”

Ross hums in agreement, and the water fae chuckle.

“Are you getting dressed?” Trott raises an eyebrow at Smith, in only his boxers and a white v-neck. “We need to drop off our little Hallow’s Eve present before we get to the party.”

“Yeah, in a sec. I was just finishing my hair.” Smith replies, wiping a smudge of hair gel off his forehead.

Trott nods. “Looks nice. Your coat and pants are on the bed, pressed and ready to go.”

“Great. Thanks, Trott.” Smith kisses him on the cheek as he brushes past him and into the bedroom.

Ross licks his lips and chuckles lightly. Smith and Trott were the only two dressing up for tonight. It was Halloween, but Ross doesn’t care. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and ripped to hell washed-out jeans, and nothing else. Trott can’t talk him into a costume, and honestly, he’s “scary” enough. Just leave him unglamoured, he’ll fit in just fine with the goblins and ghouls, both real and fake, that will walk the streets tonight.

Trott smiles down at Ross, and they, too, leave the bathroom. The selkie walks to their side table by the bed and opens the drawer, taking out the masks for tonight’s party. A domino mask of gilded silver for himself, and simple green and black cloth ones for Smith and Ross, respectively.

“Here, sunshine.” Trott beckons Ross over and clips a simple chain choker around his neck. “A bit of sparkle’s all you need.”

“Do _I_ get a bit of sparkle, Trott?” Smith asks with a dazzling grin, batting his eyelashes.

Trott rolls his eyes and settles the mask on Ross’ face. “You’ve got enough sparkle as it is, Smith. You don’t need anymore than that.”

Smith stands up from tying his shoes. They’re dark and shine prismatically, like an oil slick. Ross wonders if they would blend in if Smith stood in a puddle of gasoline.

Trott’s the one who picks everything out, all their outfits and costumes for the parties. They help with ideas and themes, but in the end, it’s all Trott who brings it together.

Tonight was sure to be as good as the rest had been. Ross had his doubts when they first started throwing these parties, but he had to admit they were fun. Beside the whole “dressing up” part. Trott and Smith loved to dance, and seeing them happy together was something Ross enjoyed immensely.

Smith is pulling on his jacket and Trott is dusting off the shoulders, buttoning it halfway up Smith’s chest and righting the cuffs. The jacket is dark kelly green, matching the dress pants Smith has on, and looks like something an officer in the military might wear. Gold trim lines the edges, and gold buttons run down the middle. The high collar brushes up to the nape of Smith’s neck.

“There we are...” Trott murmurs, smirking. His hands trace lines on the fabric as he steps back to look the kelpie over. “You look like you’re the Prince of the Loch.”

Smith laughs. “Can you imagine that? Me, a prince of something?” He shakes his head and walks into the bathroom to look in the mirror. He turns this way and that, fiddling with his sleeves and trailing his fingers over the gold ivy embroidered along his side. “Fuck me...” Smith sighs at his reflection, grin ever-present and glowing bright on his face.

Ross and Trott watch from the bedroom, smiling.

“You like it?” Trott asks.

“I look fucking _dashing_.”

The trio laugh.

“It’s bizarre!” Smith continues. “Not something I’d wear every day. But...yeah, I like it.”

“You guys look really good.” Ross agrees.

“You could have worn something, too-” Trott starts.

“Nope.”

“Are you sure, because-”

“Nope.” Ross interrupts again.

Trott sighs and puts on his mask. “ _Fine_.”

Smith laughs. “It’s not like Ross looks ugly, mate. He’d wear fuck-all if you let him, and nobody would complain.”

“I know, don’t get me started.” He’d told Ross earlier he had to wear some sort of clothing. _You can’t walk around the city naked, not even on Halloween. That’s not a costume, Ross, that’s public indecency._

“Are you ready to go?” Trott asks, handing Smith his mask as the kelpie walks back into the bedroom. “Exciting night ahead of us.”

“You bet.” He puts the mask on, careful not to muck up his hair, and pulls Trott in for a kiss. Ross sees danger and seduction in how they look tonight, but he also sees the home he’s found in this court and the care they share with each other.

The kiss breaks, and Trott's silver-tipped fingers scratch lightly at Smith's chest. They look into each other's eyes, grinning darkly until Ross clears his throat.

“Shall we?” The gargoyle asks, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Trott coughs and gestures towards the bedroom door. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

“Fuck, that thing stinks!”

“Gotta find the shittiest shit for the shitlord.” Trott says, frowning down at the unlit “jack o’lantern” in his hands. “But yes. It’s disgusting.”

Smith crept his car around the side of the horned bastard’s shop, sharing a grin with Trott and Ross. “Ready?”

Trott nods back and Ross rolls down the window.

Smith revs the car forward and up to the door. Trott jumps out before the breaks have fully stopped the car, and sprints forward to set the jack o’ lantern carefully on the step.

“Lighter!” He calls back, and Ross throws a Bic out the window. Trott catches it easily and lights the toilet paper they’d stuck inside the pumpkin to act as kindling of a sort.

He raps on the door, knuckles burning on the threshold, and dashes back to the car with the lighter grasped tightly in his hand.

“Gun it!” Trott yells as he jumps back inside. Before he shuts the door, the tires are squealing and they’re getting away, cackling madly.

“Trick or treat, motherfucker!” Ross yells out the window.

When the Sidhe Lord opens his door, he looks down on the step with a grimace. On top of his welcome mat is a deformed looking pumpkin, with screws for eyes and a knife-crooked smile. Two small tree branches are stuck in the sides: to look like antlers, he supposes. The smell of burning shit wafts through the air, making him snarl in disgust.

“ _Children_.”

He slams the door shut but resigns himself to cleaning it up before the smell gets any worse.

 

* * *

 

The Garbage Court drop the car off at the apartment and walk, still cackling at their silly prank. The party was set up not too far away, down the street a ways in an abandoned boat house. Right at the edge of the river, it had once been able to house and dock small fishing boats in the winter. But whoever owned it had left the place unlocked and empty. Perfect for a Garbage Court masquerade.

“Smith.” Trott snaps, getting his attention and pointing to the bar.

There’s a man dressed up as a very fancy, very fabulous pirate. His shirt is ruffled, half-open to show his bare chest, and the sleeves are long and lacy. The pants on his sticks-for-legs are skin-tight, like they’re painted on. There’s a tricorner hat atop his head with a feather plume, and the boots he’s wearing are thigh highs. With heels.

“Mmmmm...fuck yeah...” Smith hums. “ _Nice_ choice, Trott.”

The selkie chuckles, can feel Smith’s charm magic start to stir around him. “Go get him then. Don’t have all night, do we?”

“Can’t we just...savor him a bit?” Smith mutters breathlessly.

“We’re coming upon the witching hour. Midnight. If we want the largest magical boost we can get, we’ve got to do it now.”

“Right, right...” He leaves Trott’s side to weave through the dancing, masked crowd.

Trott, in the meantime, finds Ross, who is eating cookies over by the snack table.

“Trott, what the fuck are _these?_ ” He moans with a mouthful of crumbs. He holds his palm out and shows Trott the few cookies in his grasp.

“They’re snickerdoodles, Ross.”

Ross makes a noise of enjoyment as he takes a bite of another. “Th’re f’kin’ d’liciou’.”

Trott rolls his eyes. “Don’t talk with your mouthful.”

Ross swallows and licks his dry lips. “Smith does it.”

The selkie gives him a look, and Ross sighs. “Okay, that’s not an excuse, I get it...” Trott had told him a million times, _Whenever in doubt, do as I say, not as Smith does._

“Where is Smith?” Ross asks before finishing his cookies.

“He’s getting our mark. We should go meet him back by our V.I.P. section.” Trott gestures back from where he came, a roped off area at the back of the boat house with a few ratty old couches and a garage door to the docks.

“Alright. Is it that time, already?” The nights always went by so quickly.

“Yeap.”

Ross follows Trott across the dance floor. He couldn’t see Smith in the crowd, because most of the people were blocking his view, but he wondered if he’d be quick about it like Trott wanted.

Smith didn’t want to be quick. He wanted the long, sweet power play of his mark becoming undone in his arms. But the clock was ticking, and they were pressed for time. He gets through the crowd as the people the man was talking to leave him at the bar.

_Perfect._

“Hey there.” Smith greets, running his hand down the pirate’s arm to get him to turn around.

The man stares up at Smith in surprise and blushes. “Hi.”

“I like your costume...” Smith stage whispers over the music. He teases his fingers down the man’s chest to settle on his hips. “You just might have the best costume of the night.”

“Me? _R-Really?_ ” The man stammers. “But there are- I mean, there’s some guy as Darth Vader somewhere and-”

Smith loops his arm over the man’s shoulders, guides him forward through the crowd that parts without understanding why.

“There was somebody dressed as a hamburger, and another guy from Wayne’s World- I’m just a boring old pirate I-I’m not-”

“Shhhh, shhh...” Smith shushes the babbling man with a finger to his lips. The man looks star-struck in wonder and amazement.

“You know what they say...” The kelpe says hotly into the pirate’s ear. “First is the worst, second is the best...” He trails his hand down the man’s body to dip his fingers just under the hem of his pants. “Third is the one with the treasure chest.”

The man moans, leaning heavily into Smith’s arm. Poor guy didn’t get the joke, but it’s not like it matters.

Smith pulls him closer until they’re chest to chest and kisses him bitingly. It’s too bad Trott won’t let him fuck and drown this one. The way he whimpered against Smith’s mouth was divine.

“Please.” The man pleads, unknowing of what is to come, or what he is pleading for.

Smith takes the man’s hand, eyes brimming with amusement and desire, and leads him away.

 

* * *

 

The ritual is over quick, blood shared between them in a plastic cup as they chant the words to bind the magic to them. It was something Trott came up with when they started collecting debts and followers under the creation of their court. Smith had given him crap for some of his word usage, and Ross can remember the conversation like it was yesterday:

“ _Love?_ You can’t put the word love in a death ritual!” Smith said, flabbergasted.

“It’s not a death ritual, Smith!” Trott countered. “Plus, I don’t care, I can put it in if I fucking want to. It rhymed- and it’s true- so piss off! _I’ll_ say the line when it comes time to use it.”

“ _Trott_ , you romantic _twat_.” Smith groaned. “Ross, Trott’s being romantic again.”

“That’s nice, Smith.” Ross says, too busy watching cartoons.

“ _Trott_.” Smith whined. “ _Ross_.”

“Shut up, Smith, I can’t hear the tv!”

“Oh _fuck you_ , Ross.”

Smith and Ross had written the last line for the ritual, and it sounded decidedly stupid amidst Trott’s careful phrasing. But it was fitting, and once tested, the ritual worked completely fine, unhindered by the words spoken during it.

It was hard to believe that was so many years ago.

Now, they stand at the edge of the docks. Trott lights the blood on the ground with the lighter from earlier, burning it away in a whiff of magic. Smith is swishing Trott’s knife through the river beneath to clean it.

“Poor, unfortunate soul.” Trott croons down at the body, still bleeding out onto the wooden boardwalk. He picks the man’s fallen hat up and throws it into the river.

Ross snorts and adjusts his posture atop the railing lining the docks.

The taste of blood is still in his mouth. It’s unsettling. The death was necessary, to protect them and their home, but it didn’t mean he felt satisfied with it.

Not like Smith did, relishing in the adrenaline. Not like Trott did either, enacting vengeance he suppressed in day-to-day life.

Smith hands Trott his knife back and bends down to drag the body towards the river.

“You want these, Trott?” Smith asks as he tugs harshly at the thigh high boots. “Get them all cleaned up and I’ll lick ‘em for you.”

“ _You_ clean the blood, muck, and dirt off, and maybe I’ll _let you_ lick them.” Trott replies with a little smirk in the corner of his mouth.

The kelpie grins back, finally gets the boots off and chucks them at Ross. “Hold these for me.” He resumes dragging the body to the river. It’s only a few feet before he’s rolling it in with a splash.

Ross picks up the boots, sliding them over his hands and grimacing at the sweat still lining the inside and the blood and dirt staining the fronts. “Where to now?” He asks, swinging his arms and clapping the heels of the boots together with a rubbery thwack.

“Out.” Smith replies, washing his hands free of blood and shaking the water off.

The party was dimming down. Always did after the ritual had been completed. Most of the guests had cleared out, but some stood at the entrance to the boat house, talking boisterously and smoking.

Trott talks to the few people he’d set up as security outside, and then they leave and roam the streets. They drop the boots off at home, but Ross doesn’t bring the baseball bat he usually carried, and hopefully it wouldn’t be a problem. _Everyone_ was out tonight, and who knows what they could run into. It wasn’t like Ross couldn’t fight without it, but the metal weight in his hands was a reminder that he wasn’t powerless. He didn’t like going out without it, but he didn’t want to carry it across the entire city.

The night air was crisp and cool. Winter was approaching quickly, catching autumn’s heels as it ran away. Frost would be on the pumpkins when the sun rose.

The Garbage Court wander through the streets. Past homes and shops, through parking lots and down alleys, across parks and over bridges. They take a slow loop, sometimes catching someone in their path and either scaring them off or causing a bit of death and chaos.

In the wee hours of the morning, they start home again. They had a long walk left to go, so stopped to rest in a dinky, rusted park.

Ross drags his foot through the sand in the playground area as the seat of the merry-go-round spins slowly. His weight on one end throws off the balance.

Trott sits on a bench nearby with Smith, staring up into the night sky and the full moon wrapped in it.

“Do you ever think...we’re missing something?” Ross asks, pensive. His tail rubs back and forth behind him on the metal spinning plate he sits on.

“What’s there to miss, sunshine?” Trott asks, looking down and smiling in amusement at the angle of the merry-go-round’s wheel. “We’ve got all we need here. Don’t we?”

“Yeah.” Ross agrees, looking down at his feet. “I was just thinking.”

Trott frowns.

“I don’t know, we could be missing something.” Smith replies.

Trott turns his head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“There’s plenty of places out there, things, stuff we’ve never seen or done.” The kelpie shrugs. “We have no way of knowing what we’re missing out on, though. And there’s no sense in getting worked up over it. The universe is infinite, after all.”

“Maybe.” Ross says, agreeing. He breathes deeply, smelling the leaves in the trees and the chill of the air.

It’s a strange sight, Trott thinks. Seeing a gargoyle take a breath when he doesn’t have lungs. But he’s more human than gargoyle somedays. Ross has taken on so many features of humanity, and of Trott and Smith themselves, in the time he’s spent with them.

His question echoes in Trott’s mind.

_Do you ever think...we’re missing something?_

The selkie looks at Smith, whose head is tipped back and staring up at the stars. What few stars there were- in the city they hardly saw any. It was something of a shock, when the metal started to scrape the sky so high up that the stars had started disappearing.

 _They’re out there, somewhere,_ Trott had reassured Smith at the time. They walked the construction sites at night, all those years ago, trespassing and traversing steel beams. _They’re just too hard to see, with all the lights, sunshine. But they’re present, just like the moon is every night._

 _Guess we’ll have to look at the moon more often._ Smith had sighed. _She’ll be the only beauty left, if this land becomes a concrete jungle._

Trott had shaken his head. _Not the only beauty,_ He replied with cheek, staring into Smith’s mossy green eyes. _Just the only one in the sky._

The groaning sound of Ross standing up from the merry-go-round brings Trott back to the present. Smith laughs at the metal circle, stuck in place at a bent angle, and at Ross’ frustration as he tries to fix it.

Trott can’t help but smile, watching the kelpie get up to help and the two of them try futilely to reshape the merry-go-round. Trott knows some part of Smith would rather run around the world instead of partially rule a garbage court. But he doesn’t think he’s unhappy doing it, so in the end, it doesn’t matter much.

“Let’s start walking again.” Trott calls to his two companions as he stands from the park bench. “We should probably get home before sunrise.”

They continue on their walk, the streets emptier the more time ticks away. The streetlamps light their path, getting dimmer and duller the closer they get to home.

Mid-way through the Juror’s District, Ross finds a lost top hat in the street.

“Hey, check this out!” He pops it onto his head and strikes a very dignified, intellectual pose, with his hand curled under his chin in thought.

“You’re not sophisticated enough for that hat, Ross.” Smith jokes.

“I’m a fucking marble sculpture, I’m sophisticated as fuck!”

Trott laughs, and Ross grins.

“With that manic grin of yours, sunshine, you look like a right Jekyll and Hyde character.” Trott notes, nudging Ross and Smith along to keep them moving.

“Who’re they?” Ross asks, twirling the hat in his hands.

“They’re from a book. Makes a good Halloween tale, actually.”

Smith yawns and stretches his arms over his head. “Nice night for a break in.” He grins. “There’s a library up on 3rd, isn’t there? That’s on our way.”

Trott nods. “Yeah, but it’s morning by now. A few hours and the sun will be coming up.”

“But we could probably spend a few hours there, right?”

Trott hums, and Smith and Ross plead with him.

“Come on, Trott, it’ll be fun!”

“Read me a story!”

“You love libraries, why not, let’s go!”

“Alright, alright. We’ll go. But only until sunrise, and then we have to get home.”

The library on 3rd Street is locked up tight for the holiday, but Trott’s been here so many times that with barely a brush of his magic the locks fall open.

It’s a satisfying feeling, to push through the doors and walk in-between the stacks. Trott has always felt at home surrounded by books. Smith’s hand is warm on his shoulder when they stop at the foot of the stairs.

“Where do you think that book is?” He asks.

Ross scuffs his foot on the laminate wooden floors while Trott thinks.

“Let’s try the Children’s section. They’ll have bean bags we can sit in, too.”

It’s easy enough to find _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ , and it’s easy enough to pile the bean bags together in a heap and sink into them. They’re tired enough for a nap, but Trott drags over the brightest reading lamp he can find, which is a pain because the cord was barely long enough, but they manage.

Smith and Ross tuck themselves on either side of Trott, with Smith’s jacket draped across Trott’s lap. The Garbage Court settle into comfortable silence as Trott begins to read.

**Author's Note:**

> The goal for fae, for Halloween, is to capture mortals. For whatever purpose that may be.  
> For the Garbage Court, it’s another night to boost their power in the city and make sure other, smaller rivals know who to fear.  
> The person they choose as the ‘winner’ of the costume contest isn’t even the best costume. He’s the third best, because the crowd will remember the best, if nothing else from that night. But they won’t remember the more boring option.
> 
> GC riding around throwing rotting remains of pumpkins at Kirin’s doorstep for the rest of the month. He keeps trying to catch them at it, but they come at random times, and he doesn’t know it happens until he hears a wet thunk on the door, a mad cackle, and the revving of an engine. “Dammit!” He throws down the home and garden magazine he was reading and stomps over to the door to clear the rotting pumpkin off it again. The Sidhe Lord mutters darkly to himself as the Garbage Court speed away.
> 
> Trott’s mask: http://i.ebayimg.com/00/s/MTA2NlgxNjAw/z/4WIAAOSwkNZUqzx9/$_1.JPG?set_id=880000500F
> 
> Smith’s oil-slick shoes: http://urbanmagicaesthetic.tumblr.com/post/118873603497
> 
> Smith’s pompadour:  
> http://gentlemenst.tumblr.com/post/132020519150
> 
> http://cityscapeswow.tumblr.com/post/126736398111/city-life  
> downtown  
> http://cityscapeswow.tumblr.com/post/126736998551/cityscape  
> jury district towards downtown  
> http://trashcanland.tumblr.com/post/130370437453  
> GC Halloween  
> http://cityscapeswow.tumblr.com/post/126825514316/cityscape  
> foggy creepy night  
> http://cityscapeswow.tumblr.com/post/126825431291/urban  
> new york night moon


End file.
